An Unexpected Turn of Events
by Historybuff
Summary: If Sweeney had been able to avenge himself before becoming a full-fledged serial killer, how would his story have played out? Would he have been able to salvage a relationship with his newfound family from many years ago? TEMPORARILY on hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**_Chapter 1_**

"Mr. Todd," a voice called from the doorway of the barbershop.

Mr. Todd slowly lifted his gaze (which had previously been set on his shimmering 'friends') and craned his neck ever so slightly towards the caller.

"At your service," he said, his voice beginning to quiver.

The gentleman took a small step towards Mr. Todd, revealing a young lady who had previously been hidden behind him by his tall form. He gestured for the lady to cross towards a small window adjacent to the barber chair.

"How may I be of service?" Mr. Todd asked, attempting to seem cool despite the fact that his eyes had not shifted from the gentleman since he entered the room.

"I'm here for a shave," the gentleman explained. "I hear you are quite proficient in your skill and as I have no prior engagements I've chosen to bestow my patronage upon your _quaint_ little shop."

Mr. Todd's gaze slowly drifted towards the young lady, who was staring out the window in some sort of a daydream. The gentleman quickly took notice of this and took several steps towards the young lady.

"You'll pardon me, Mr. Todd. This is my young ward, Johanna. I realize it may be rather peculiar to bring a young lady to a barber shop, but… recent events have made it quite impossible for me to trust her out of my sight for even the slightest measure of time." At this, the young lady Johanna fixed her gaze on the floor, her soft, warm cheeks beginning to glow with humiliation.

"The young lady has done nothing disreputable, I trust," Mr. Todd mumbled, realizing that the gentleman might have caught the soft tone of concern in his voice, though he had meant to conceal it.

"Not exactly," the gentleman admitted, his eyes still fixed on Johanna. "Nevertheless…"

"I need no explanation," Mr. Todd said at last, moving with his razors towards the barber chair. "Sit, sir. _Sit_." After a brief moment of hesitation, the gentleman turned from Johanna towards the chair and slowly situated himself in it.

Mr. Todd lifted the small cup of shaving cream and began to mix it steadily with a brush, unable to turn his eyes from the pretty-faced girl gazing out his window.

"Make haste, Mr. Todd," the gentleman said irritably, well aware of the barber's gaze.

"Of course, sir," Mr. Todd said at last, approaching him with the shaving cream. He lifted the brush from the cup and stroked it meticulously over every inch of the gentleman's lower face. "May I offer you a soothing face massage once I finish with your shave?" he offered cordially.

"I thank you, no," the gentleman mumbled, trying to prevent the cream from seeping in between his lips.

"Is there anything that can be done for the young lady?" Mr. Todd asked, his razor pressed against the man's chin, though his eyes were still fixed on Johanna.

"In a barber's shop?" the gentleman questioned with a slight scoff. "What could you possibly offer her?"

"Nothing, sir. Nothing." Mr. Todd fixed his attention on the prickly chin before him, brushing the slender blade against the skin with remarkable precision.

"Johanna," the gentleman called out. The young lady at the window turned sharply towards him, her eyes widened.

"Yes?" she whispered softly.

"Fetch me my purse from downstairs. I believe I left it on the table when you were waiting for a meat pie."

"Yes, sir," she whispered, swiftly moving towards the door. Within a matter of moments she had disappeared, leaving the two gentlemen alone together.

"Horrendous service," the gentleman commented. "From the pie shop, that is. We waited for over ten minutes for someone to serve us and no one even bothered to give us a common greeting. Most absurd, I think." Mr. Todd made no reply, but continued running his blade over the man's chin.

"An honor to receive your patronage, me lord," Mr. Todd mumbled, slicing another thin layer of stubble from his cheek.

"You know me, sir?" the gentleman questioned, trying to move his lips as little as possible.

"Who in this wide world does not know the _great Judge Turpin_?" Mr. Todd asked quietly with a subtle hint of disdainful mockery in his tone.

"Yes, of course," the Judge mumbled quietly through his unmoving lips. "And… I might know you as well, Mr. Todd."

Mr. Todd lifted his razor suddenly, staring at the judge with sudden intrigue. "Is that so?" he said, attempting to remain composed, though his pitch had risen considerably.

"Only… When I knew you, you never went by the name of Todd… Did you, Mr. Barker?"

Mr. Todd suddenly felt the thin-bladed razor slip from his fingers, landing on the floorboards with a vociferous clatter.

"You thought it possible that I'd forget the face that tormented me all those years ago?" the judge demanded, wiping the remaining cream from his cheeks with the bloodstained sheet that had previously been tied around his throat. He lifted himself from the chair and advanced in the direction of Mr. Todd. The barber took several quick steps back in order to avoid the judge's injurious contact, wishing that he were able to reach the set of shimmering razors, which he had placed neatly in their case after sharpening them no more than several hours prior to this somewhat unexpected turn of events. "If the prisons in Australia cannot somehow manage to constrain you, I shall have to finish you myself!" the judge hissed, turning his eyes in the direction of the razor that Mr. Todd had dropped. "It won't be difficult to convince anyone that I acted in self-defense against a crazed lunatic."

The judge struggled to bend in the direction of the razor, giving Mr. Todd one last moment to glance about the room in search of any makeshift weapon he could use in his final moments. There were no sharp pieces of glass or sturdy pieces of wire. There was, however, an inconspicuous little teapot boiling over a dancing flame.

************************************************************************

"A purse, you say?" Mrs. Lovett repeated, turning from side to side in search of the said item. "I can't imagine where it would be… Did you check by the window over there?"

"I looked there as soon as I entered, Ma'am," Johanna explained softly.

"Well, check again, love! I'm sure it's somewhere!"

As Johanna turned in the direction of the window, Mrs. Lovett quickly reached down the front of her dress and pulled out a small purse she had previously tucked away. "Oh!" she explained. "Look here, love! It's been under the table there all the time!"

Johanna's eyes quickly lit up when she recognized the purse. "Thank you, Ma'am. He'll be so pleased that I found it. I'm sure he'd be _most_ displeased if I didn't." Johanna's expression grew painfully dark and she quickly lowered her chin.

"You're familiar," Mrs. Lovett commented. "Have I seen you in here before?"

"No, Ma'am!" Johanna quickly replied. "I never go anywhere. The judge only wanted me here because… well… I…" As her thoughts began to trail off, Mrs. Lovett quickly turned in her direction with a most dumbfounded stare.

"Judge, you say?" she inquired, her voice suddenly softened.

"Yes, Ma'am. Judge Turpin."

Mrs. Lovett's stare was becoming less and less subtle. "Turpin? You mean… Judge Turpin's upstairs alone with Mr. Todd?"

Johanna shifted her eyes towards Mrs. Lovett, slightly puzzled. "Well of course, Ma'am. He's come for a shave. And I should return to him now. I suppose he's wondering what has kept me for so long as it is. I thank you for your assistance in my search for the judge's purse. I'm most obliged to you, I'm sure." After making a brief curtsy, Johanna started in the direction of the door but was quickly stopped by her newfound acquaintance.

"No, my dear! You just sit down right here… and have a nice, delicious pie." As Mrs. Lovett placed an overcooked, molding piece of crusting before her, Johanna could not help but softly raise an eyebrow.

"Thank you, Ma'am," Johanna replied, attempting to lift herself from the bench. "But I'm afraid that I must return to the judge. He will be most angry with me, I'm sure, if I remain-"

"How about…" Mrs. Lovett interrupted, gently pushing Johanna back onto the bench. "I go upstairs and explain to the judge that you're down here having a pie free of charge… and he may collect you as soon as he's finished with his shave. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Well…" Johanna absent-mindedly poked at the distasteful layer of crusting. "Thank you, Ma'am. I'd be much indebted to you if you would do so. But if the judge wants me upstairs, I'll accompany him as soon as you return with his answer. You'll tell him so, won't you?"

"Of course, love," Mrs. Lovett replied, moving towards the door. Though she smiled congenially, Johanna couldn't help but notice an anxious expression in Mrs. Lovett's eyes.

************************************************************************

"Mr. Todd! Ya _didn't_!" Mrs. Lovett quietly gasped upon observing the glaring blood spatter across Mr. Todd's crisp white sleeve.

"He recognized me," Mr. Todd mumbled unenthusiastically. "You knew what my plan was from the beginning, Mrs. Lovett. Why act so surprised now that I've finally carried it all out?"

"I'm not surprised," Mrs. Lovett replied, slowly crossing to the large wooden casket situated against the wall. She opened it hesitantly and upon observing its contents nearly jumped back with a large yelp. "_Blimey_! Ya got _two_ of 'em in there!"

Mr. Todd began to grin sadistically. "I can see that. Apparently the judge had been accompanied not only by his young ward… but also by the Beadle… The Beadle had grown tired of waiting for the judge and was about to go along his way. He was preparing to tell the judge just that when he entered… Clearly you see what happened after this."

"All that blood," she remarked. She glanced down, noticing the teapot clenched in his hand. She gasped accusingly. "Not the teapot! That was a wedding present, Mr. Todd!"

"It's all I could find before he came at me with me own razor. I had to use something. Would you have rather had me cut to bits?"

"Well… No." She was far too hesitant in giving her answer, he thought.

"Where's the girl?" he asked suddenly.

"Downstairs. I have her eating a pie. Pretty little thing, isn't she?"

"Pretty as her mother," he mumbled in a soft whisper, glancing towards the window sullenly.

"What shall I tell her? She's bound to ask questions!"

"Send her up," he ordered quietly.

Mrs. Lovett glanced from the casket to the dripping razor in his right hand. Her eyes widened, mortified. "No! Mr. Todd, are you quite out of your head? She's your _daughter_! You can't-"

"I'm not going to kill her, ridiculous woman!" he snarled, giving her a chastising glare. "Send her up. I'll conceal everything that needs to be hidden before she comes… I think I should… have a quiet talk with her…"

"What are you planning on telling her, Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett stepped towards him, intrigued.

"Never mind," he demanded. "Send her up!"

After staring at him for several more minutes, Mrs. Lovett at last sighed and crossed to the door, quite resolved to obey her mysterious dominator.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

The young sailor gazed across the soft London skyline in discontentment. He had waited at her window, hoping to simply catch one meager glance from her sweet, entrancing eyes. Yet she had not bestowed such a loving gift upon him that day. In fact, he had not seen her for several days. Ever since that ill-fated meeting with the judge…

He wondered if perhaps this was not a complete waste of his time. Perhaps there were other young ladies who were attainable that he could settle for in marriage. Or maybe he did not desire to marry. If he couldn't steal away the melancholy girl with yellow hair, why would he bother to find anyone at all?

He was still benefiting from the fruitage of his youth and this should have been motivation enough for him to smile or revel in the pleasures of an astounding city such as London, the place where he had been born. But with that sad-faced dove sitting at her window, always just a bit out of his reach, how could he ever take in any pleasure being there in her general vicinity? It could not be endured. The sailor's thoughts were soon interrupted by jostled ruckus originating in the direction of a local alehouse.

"Anthony!" a fellow sailor called to him with a drunken slur. "Most delightful news, my good man! A ship…"

"Yes?" Anthony pressed, trying to force his eyes away from the isolated little window directly across from him.

"A ship… _The Moonlight_… It's setting sail tomorrow. Shipmates are receiving astounding compensation… and what's more… It's heading towards _America_!"

Anthony glanced at him, unimpressed. "And how would this knowledge affect me?"

The drunkard sailor's jaw quickly dropped open, astounded. "Anthony, me boy! _America_! How many chances will a young lad have to-"

"I just returned home," Anthony interrupted, quite determined to remain where he was. "I'm not going anywhere… just yet." His eyes were soon fixated on the window. Even in a drunken stupor, his friend could easily detect that there was something amiss about his young friend's adamant demeanor.

"What? Are you waiting for a miracle or something? Is the sky going to start raining gold if you stay in London? Is that it?" He glanced towards the window at which Anthony had been staring for quite a while. "Ah…" he muttered, finally beginning to understand. "It's a sweet lady, I see."

"She's not just any lady," Anthony replied defensively. "She's the only woman I could ever love."

"Boy," the sailor began hesitantly. "How long have you known this girl?"

"I saw her for the first time shortly after we arrived here. Why?"

"Uh huh. And… What's she like?"

"Oh!" At this, Anthony began to beam. "She's delightful! She's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. And she's sad."

"All right. So she's beautiful and she's sad…" The sailor dropped to the ground, his legs buckling underneath him. "Anything else? Is she sweet? What are her interests? How old is she?"

"Well… I don't know," Anthony admitted. "I've never actually spoken to her. I've just seen her… sitting there." He pointed towards the window lovingly.

"Oh, my boy!" the sailor exclaimed. "That's not love! You never even spoke to her! For all you know, she could just be a very lovely painting that they hang in the window every once in a while."

"That's not so. I met her guardian. He's a horrible man. He keeps her locked up there."

"Ah. I see. So on top of not knowing anything about her (besides the fact that she's beautiful and she's sad) she has a cruel guardian who's mind is set on you not having anything to do with her. Is that it?"

Anthony thought for a moment, hesitant to reply. "Possibly that is correct. But isn't that all the more reason to-"

"Boy," the sailor interrupted, struggling to stand and placing a hand on Anthony's shoulder. "Listen to me. There's no way you're ever going to even meet this girl. Never mind about marrying her! Take my advice… Go to America with the rest of us. Think of all you could do! Chances are you'll find a beautiful, sad American girl who's locked up by an evil guardian. This will give you the chance to save her."

"But I…" Before Anthony could continue, his friend had departed. Anthony scoffed bitterly, wishing that he had never engaged in a conversation with such a miserable cretin. And yet… Could he possibly have been speaking words of truth?

Anthony was a young man, full of life and anxious to experience the world. Was he really willing to throw away a possibly life-altering opportunity in order to remain faithful to what was nothing more than a sweet yet childish infatuation?

These were the thoughts that haunted Anthony all through the night. Though normally he hadn't any trouble gazing towards the young lady's window, patiently waiting for her to bequeath a single glance in his direction, Anthony soon found his eyes turning to _The Moonlight_, firmly docked in a nearby harbor.

The next morning, at approximately nine o'clock, _The Moonlight_ had set sail and the usual visitor was not seated on the small bench outside of the young lady's window.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

Johanna hesitantly made her way up the rickety stairs leading to the archaic barbershop. She gently turned the doorknob with her soft gloved hand and entered, immediately astounded by the fact that there was no one to be seen except for the rather peculiar barber, who was presently standing near a broken mirror, hurriedly pulling a jacket over his arms as she entered. He turned to see her and for a moment, she wondered if it might be a decent idea to return to the pie shop down below.

"I'm sorry," she said gently, taking a step back towards the door. "I… I thought my guardian was here. Has he already departed?"

"Step inside," he demanded softly, crossing towards her slowly.

Johanna grasped the doorknob, unsuccessfully attempting to conceal her immediate panic. "Thank you… But I must find the judge. I can't imagine why he would take his leave without fetching me. Especially since I have his purse…" Johanna's words slowly drifted off as she gazed at the floor, noticing a splatter of crimson liquid at the base of the barber chair. She turned her eyes back to the barber, who was quite close to her now. She frantically turned towards the door and grasped at the knob, but within moments, the barber slammed the door shut, grasped her arm and pulled her towards the chair. "Have mercy on me!" she cried as he thrust her towards the chair.

Mr. Todd glanced up nervously towards the window, suddenly aware that the people directly outside might hear her cries. "Quiet!" he ordered in a whisper.

"Release me!" she cried, leaping from the chair and making one more dash for the door. Just as she reached for the doorknob, he caught her by the waist and covered her small gasping mouth with one hand. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her till she was nearly suffocating.

"Johanna…" he whispered in her ear as soon as her struggling lessened. "Listen to me. I'm not going to hurt you in any way. Just calm yourself. I'm trying to protect you. I know that protection is something with which you've probably never really been acquainted, but it is imperative that you understand what I'm about to tell you."

Though his hand was still stifling her words, he could see in her terror-stricken eyes that she was indeed listening to him.

"I promise you that _never_ again will you _ever_ be hurt by that terrible creature who stole you away… You hear me? _Never again._" All that could be heard for the next several minutes was Johanna's stifled panting. Finally, once he was quite certain that she would not scream, he slowly moved his hand from her lips.

"What- What have you done?" she stammered, still trying to catch her breath. Her eyes turned once more to the splatter near the barber chair.

"Never mind," he said quietly, turning her towards him. "You _must_ understand me now. He won't be bothering you again. Does that not relieve you? And I can help you, Johanna. I can give you everything you ever wanted."

She stared up at him, wishing that he would stop holding her quite so tightly. "Please, I don't know you. Let me go." She continued to struggle, but to no avail.

"He's gone!" he said at last.

She stared up, horrified. "Did you… What have you done?"

"That's something that I pray you will never know, my dear," he said softly. "But you're safe and that's all that really matters at the present time."

"Safe?" she asked, staring at him in disbelief. "He's the only family I had. Of course he mistreated me. He mistreated everyone. But nevertheless, he gave me shelter and food and clothing. If he's gone, what do I have?"

Mr. Todd stared at her, unable to prevent his fingers from gently twirling a lock of her yellow hair. "You can have a new family," he said at last. "Do you want to marry the sailor?"

She looked up to him, her eyes widened. "How would you know-"

"I know," he interrupted. "And I also know that he'd be willing to have you, if it were to your liking. But that would be your choice, of course."

"What other choice do I have now?" she muttered miserably, a small stream of salty tears slowly running down her soft cheek.

"Do you love him?" Mr. Todd asked, lifting her chin towards him.

"I… I don't know him. But I suppose I… Since I no longer have a home-"

"You never had a home, child," Mr. Todd said gruffly. "You lived in a prison. And that man…" he gestured towards the casket. "Was no father to you. You know that better than anyone, I'm sure." He wiped the tear from her cheek and gazed at her, suddenly filled with a strong sense of pity for the helpless creature he held in his arms, as he had done so many years ago.

"This is all absurd," she said at last, pulling away and stepping towards the window. "Why would you do a thing like this? You don't even know me."

"I know you well enough, my dear," he whispered quietly, crossing to a table and gently polishing one of his razors with a light cloth.

"Why would you want to help me? Have we ever even met before? I certainly don't remember you."

"No, I suspect you don't," he stated, turning towards her. "Let's leave well enough alone, pet. I've done for you what I've dreamed of doing for years now. What I've ached to do… All in order to save a poor miserable creature that at one point proved to be a source of pleasure in my life. Will you deny me the chance of helping you?"

Johanna stared at him, dumbfounded. "I suppose I'll never understand any of this," she said at last, gently rubbing her temple. "But you seem to know a great deal more about me than anyone I've ever met. And if you really feel compelled to help me in some way… I give you my sincerest gratitude."

"Good girl," he said, crossing to the door. "Mrs. Lovett!"

After a moment, shuffling could be heard making its way towards the stairs. "You called me, Mr. T?"

"Have you seen Anthony today? He usually arrives in this general area about this time of day."

Mrs. Lovett stared up at him, too surprised to speak. "Anthony? The sailor, you mean? Then you haven't heard?"

Mr. Todd glanced towards the streets, agitated. "Mrs. Lovett," he said in a threatening whisper. "Would you kindly accompany me upstairs if you wish to speak with me?"

Mrs. Lovett shrugged impatiently and struggled up the stairs. "You called on _me_, Mr. T. Not the other way around," she said defensively.

"Never mind. What news have you heard?"

"Well, about the sailor, of course! There was a ship that departed this morning, setting sail for America. I suspect your sailor friend was among the crew."

Mr. Todd slowly turned from Mrs. Lovett to Johanna, who had sunk into the barber chair, her soft cheeks now quite pale with distress. "I think it hardly likely," he began gruffly to Mrs. Lovett. "That the boy would suddenly disappear without so much as a farewell. Especially since…" His eyes returned towards the girl.

Mrs. Lovett gave another indifferent shrug. "I'm only telling you what I've been told myself, Mr. T. Mrs. Mooney said just a few hours ago that she was quite certain that she saw a young man going aboard the ship who she had noticed entering your barber shop on several occasions."

"Mrs. Mooney told you?" he asked, crossing irritably towards the barber chair. "And why is Mrs. Mooney eying everyone who enters me shop?"

"I suspect she finds it to be a bit peculiar that a young boy whose face is as smooth as the skin of an apple comes to a barber at least once a week."

"Have no fear," he whispered softly to Johanna, who was staring out the window from the barber chair, her eyes glazed over with apparent apathy. She slowly shifted her gaze to the somewhat disheveled barber.

"He's gone. That's all. What's to be feared? I no longer have shelter, nor do I have any prospects of marriage. I'm sure I'll somehow manage." She suddenly lifted herself from the chair and was about to cross towards the door when he took hold of her shoulders.

"You can stay here," he said suddenly. Mrs. Lovett turned her eyes to him, taken aback.

Johanna stared up at him, momentarily unable to respond. "I beg your pardon, sir?" she asked quietly, her voice quivering.

"Live here," he repeated, only now his tone had noticeably intensified. She gazed at him, dumbfounded.

"This must be some kind of dream," she said at last. "It's absurd…ridiculous…" Her eyes dropped to the floor and it seemed to Mr. Todd that she might accept his offer. But suddenly she pried his fingers from her shoulders and continued towards the door.

"Where are you going?" he asked nervously.

"I don't know…" she said, waiting for Mrs. Lovett to remove herself from the door way. However, Mrs. Lovett staunchly refused to move as soon as she caught Mr. Todd's threatening glare. "But I certainly cannot remain where I am. So if you'd be so kind as to release me, I think I should return to the house of the Judge. I'm sure I'll be missed if I do not."

"The Judge doesn't reside there anymore," Mr. Todd explained, suddenly becoming cross. "He doesn't reside _anywhere_. You'll be reduced to living as a common beggar woman if you refuse my offer." She did not seem to be listening. Rather, she continued attempting to move past Mrs. Lovett, who was losing her will to remain in the doorway. All at once, the miserable barber moved to her and grasped her hands desperately with enough force to possibly give her a slight injury. "Miss, I _entreat_ you."

At first she had every intention to pull away and continue towards the stairs, but for some reason, the soft, tragic expression in his dark eyes caused her to hesitate. She was immediately struck with an unexpected pang of compassion for this desperate, isolated man. His reasons for protecting her were unknown, yet how could she deny this pitiable specimen anything that he asked of her? As she stared into his dark, embittered eyes, she felt an instantaneous bond with the unhappy barber that she certainly had no method of explaining to anyone, least of all herself.

"If it is your will…" she began slowly. "I will certainly remain here."

She almost detected a soft smile form on his lips. He released his strong grasp on her small hands and turned his attention to Mrs. Lovett, whose mouth was open, forming a rather idiotic expression on her gaunt face.

"Mrs. Lovett, we are to have a guest," he said, immediately growing impatient with her ridiculous expression.

"Oh! Well, of course the girl can stay in me home. I have a spare room for you, Love. I hope it will be to your liking."

"Anything will seem to be delightful after years of…" Johanna's attention slowly turned to the puddle of crimson liquid that had not yet been removed. Noticing this, Mr. Todd took a rag and dropped it on top of the puddle. It immediately absorbed the liquid, causing Johanna to suddenly feel ill. She placed her shaking hand over her stomach and gasped softly.

"Are you ill?" Mr. Todd asked, taking a step towards her.

"Nonsense, Mr. T," Mrs. Lovett answered in her place. "Probably… her corset's a bit too tight. That's it, I'm sure. Come, Love. Let me show you the room. You might want to stay there for a while, just in case anyone comes looking for you." Johanna nodded slowly and stepped towards the door, led by Mrs. Lovett. "Wait in the pie shop for a moment, Love. I'll be down in just a moment." Johanna did as she was told, suddenly struck by a sensation of numbness. Mrs. Lovett watched her carefully as she entered the pie shop and as soon as she had disappeared, Mrs. Lovett fixed her attention on the barber. "Mr. Todd!" she exclaimed, running her fingers through her hair with a peculiar combination of distress and amusement.

"What, may I ask, is wrong with you, woman?" he asked, becoming annoyed with her constant enthusiasm.

"How did you _possibly_ manage? You slaughtered her guardian, made no attempt to hide this from her and… _somehow_ convinced her to stay here with you! It's almost unbelievable!"

"I was here at the time, Mrs. Lovett. I don't need a description of what went on."

"She took it all rather well, I must say," she commented. "You know… it's not healthy to take news of this nature so calmly. She's bound to be a little odd, you know. I don't know how I feel about having a lunatic staying with us."

"She's not a lunatic," he said, giving her one of his warning glances.

"Very well, Mr. T. You've finally gotten everything you ever wanted. You destroyed your enemies, found your daughter… and all in one afternoon! But…" Her eyes suddenly turned to the casket, concerned.

"What is it?" he asked, returning his attention to the rag he had previously dropped on the floor.

"Well, what we gonna do about _them_?" she asked.

"We'll take them out when it's dark and bury them, of course," he explained, giving her a judgmental glance, as though this should be common knowledge.

"We could do that," she muttered, disappointed. Suddenly, her eyes lit up and a bright smile formed on her lips. "But… seems a downright shame…"

"Shame?" he repeated, waiting for her to elaborate.

"Seems an awful waste… With the price of meat what it is… When you get it… if you get it…" She turned her eyes to him, hoping that he might respond. Clearly, he didn't have the vaguest idea of what she was discussing. "Such a _nice plump frame_ the Judge has. Beadle too…" She tried her best to suppress a sadistic giggle. She waited anxiously for him to catch her meaning. Suddenly, his eyes were just as wide as her own, only his seemed to be blazing with horror.

"_Mrs. Lovett_! I… _hope_ I am misunderstanding you."

"Have a little Judge, Mr. T!" she urged, lifting an imaginary pie to his nose. He pushed her hand away, repulsed.

"Get away, devil woman!" He quickly stumbled towards the door. "If you promise not to mention this ever again, I'll pretend that this conversation never occurred."

"Oh, don't fret, Love!" she grumbled, moving towards him. "After all, it was only a suggestion!"


End file.
